


Singing

by foggynite



Category: Yōseiki Suikoden | Suikoden Demon Century (1993 anime)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Coming Out, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 18:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggynite/pseuds/foggynite
Summary: Takateru takes Miyuki home to the family farm before they set back out again.
Relationships: Miyuki Mamiya/Takateru Sage





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on 11/4/03.
> 
> Takes place after the end of the movie. This is for the 1993 movie version released by AD Vision (based off the same Chinese folklore as the video games released by Konami, but unrelated) where ignorant farm boy Takateru heads into post-apocalyptic Tokyo to save his sister from a drug cartel and finds out he's the reincarnation of one of the 108 Stars (yeah, you read that right). Miyuki was the best character, by far.
> 
> Note on Miyuki: In the English version, he self-identifies as a transvestite and goes by male pronouns while dressing as a woman and having effeminate mannerisms (and kicks ass while doing it). This fic was in part my way of addressing what I considered transphobic running gags of the anime between Takateru and Miyuki (its attitude is very 1993), while also acknowledging that they highlighted Takateru's attraction to Miyuki throughout the plot and the two became traveling companions at the end (ie: the cute little hat scene, where Takateru stares at a flirting Miyuki with his brain functions visibly crashing).

Takateru grunted deeply as he strained to put one hand in front of the other, clinging to the rope for dear life. Sweat trickled down his reddened face, made his hands slick as he kept hauling his precious cargo upwards. The wounds he had received in Tokyo protested the abuse he was undergoing, cramping and knotting with every heave of his arms. But finally—Finally!—he was able to flail awkwardly forward and pull the bucket of water towards the well’s stone edge.

He’d only been home for a week and already his parents were demanding he work for his keep, never mind the holes in him. A storm had knocked out the electricity in the house while he was gone, and it would be a while before it was fixed, so his mother had him carting buckets of water to the house.

Pausing to catch his breath, he studied the green pastures beyond the well as he slowly rubbed his healing side. The open land called to him like it never had before. There was something waiting for him out there, and he knew they’d have to return to the city soon enough. The old monk was right; they were all connected—The 108 reincarnated stars. He could feel the presence of Ryo and the others whenever he faced east, towards old Tokyo. For the moment, though, he was just happy to have gotten Kiyomi home.

The indignant mooing of their dairy cow caught his attention, meaning Miyuki was trying to be helpful and finish his chores for him. Never mind that the piano player didn’t know which end of the cow to squeeze.

Takateru sighed and steeled his weary muscles to go save the cow. Lord knew the poor thing had been traumatized enough by his well-meaning house guest. His parents could certainly sympathize, though. Six days around Miyuki and they didn’t know up from down anymore either.

Taking his bandanna off, he tried to rub as much dirt from his arms and face as possible. He always felt at a disadvantage arguing with Miyuki when he was covered in muck while the other man managed to stay pristine, even while doing farm work.

Unfortunately, wiping his face meant that both his hands were busy _not_ holding his hard earned bucket of water, and the damned thing fell back over the side of the well.

He blinked at the empty space in front of him, then sighed in defeat and trudged towards the barn. Standing in the open doorway, he rubbed his temples and tried to be patient as he surveyed the struggle in front of him.

“Miyuki, how many times do I have to tell you to start at the top and apply even pressure all the way down, alternating teats?”

Miyuki blinked up at him, taking a moment to register what he said, then smirked.

“Like this, dear?” The pianist asked innocently, finally managing to get a squirt of milk in the tin pail held between his knees. 

Takateru growled. 

Setting up a fair rhythm, Miyuki continued to fill the pail while humming a pleasant tune.

Prepared to deliver a scathing indictment of the other man’s usefulness, Takateru paused and snapped his mouth shut. He really was too tired to care about all of it at the moment, and at least the cow didn’t look as violated anymore. 

After a moment of just staring at Miyuki’s slim back, he offered quietly, “I would’ve gotten to that, y’know. You don’t have to help with all this stuff.”

“I’m an uninvited guest here, Takateru.” Miyuki’s voice was equally low as he kept up his steady pace. “I don’t want to put your family out anymore than I already have.”

“Aw, geez, it’s not like that and you know it.” He found the strength to protest. “I invited you. My parents just aren’t used to company, is all, and well, you’re not exactly _who_ they’re used to…”

Miyuki laughed, a throaty chuckle that gave Takateru goose bumps. “I realized that the moment you walked into the bar, darling. But your mother is such a sweetheart, and I would feel guilty sitting around the house while everyone else works.”

“Yeah, well—” He was interrupted by a wave of dizziness and floundered for the archway, feeling the ground come up to meet him. “Aw hell.”

“Takateru?” 

Miyuki’s concerned face swam in front of him and he groaned with embarrassment. The other man helped him to sit up and lean back against the door frame. 

“I knew you shouldn’t have been out of bed, silly man. You may have made the trip back in one piece, but you haven’t stopped to rest since then!”

“Please, save the nagging for when I’m comfortable enough to ignore it…”

“Humph.” The offended snort promised more pain later, when he was healed and could appreciate it. Miyuki tugged at his uninjured shoulder. “Up with you then. I’m taking you straight to bed.”

“You’ve just been waiting to say that, haven’t you?” 

Takateru laughed as Miyuki blushed a pretty rose, but gulped nervously when Miyuki loomed closer to his face.

“And you sound almost eager…” 

The teasing light was back in Miyuki’s kohl-lined eyes, and Takateru breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t be berated anymore.

“Yeah, well. Least I’m not a lech!” Was the only rejoinder he could come up with at the moment, trying hard not to blush himself when Miyuki’s clear voice dropped an octave.

“That’s debatable.”

“Hey!”

Miyuki rolled his eyes and tugged Takateru to his feet. They staggered together until Miyuki got Takateru’s arm balanced across his shoulder. 

The shorter man grunted elegantly in disdain. “For someone so skinny, you’re surprisingly heavy.”

“I’m not skinny; I’m compact. There’s a difference.”

“Semantics, darling. You’re still as scrawny as a scarecrow.”

“This coming from you. My mother doesn’t know whether to fatten you up or find out your dieting secrets.”

“Flatterer.”

As they slowly made their way across the yard to the house, Takateru realized he was more tired than he thought. When faced with the nausea building in his stomach at each step, he had to admit that maybe he shouldn’t have pushed it so hard after they got back. Like he’d ever say that out loud. Miyuki had a big enough ego as it was, god forbid Takateru confess he had been right about something.

Miyuki exhaled roughly as they climbed the stairs to the front porch, the movement bringing him closer to Takateru’s side. Takateru caught a light floral scent amid the various barnyard smells, and tried to impress it on his memory. The slim shoulder beneath his captive hand was intriguing, too, as was the thin fabric of Miyuki’s wide-collared shirt sliding over the man’s toned collarbones.

He had to admit it to himself; over their time in Tokyo then on the road and now back home, somewhere along the way he had gotten used to Miyuki’s flirting. Welcomed it, if only for the clash of wits it inevitably entailed. And it was kinda nice to have someone that wasn’t his mother watch over him, even if it was irritating. Plus, he had to be honest, he liked the fact that Miyuki wasn’t as fragile as he had first appeared to be. The guy was a tough fighter, fierce and even frightening, with those nails. But his character was as steady as the body supporting Takateru through the front door.

They headed for the stairs at the back of the house, passing the kitchen. His mother gasped with worry when she noticed them, wiping her hands on her apron and hurrying forward.

“I’m fine, Ma,” he reassured her before she could start freaking out.

“Are you sure, honey? You look terrible!” She slid under his other shoulder-- the injured one—and he tried to hide his wince.

His sarcastic, “Thanks, Ma,” was overridden by Miyuki declaring, “The fool’s gone and worn himself out again.”

His mother merely joined in the head shaking and knowledgeable clucking. "He was like that as a boy, you know. Always getting into scrapes and never slowing down until he fell down."

Takateru let himself be dragged up the stairs to his bedroom, too tired to care about the loss of dignity. Miyuki had been sleeping in his bed while he bunked on an old cot on the floor, but both Miyuki and his mother pushed the cot out of the way to settle him on top of the bed sheets.

“You need to get out of those filthy clothes…” Miyuki murmured and started to unbutton his shirt like it was a common habit between the two of them. 

Takateru blushed crimson and swatted the delicate hands away.

“I can undress myself, thank you very much!” He yelped.

“Oh, of course." Miyuki drawled. "I’ll just go get a clean blanket and let you fall on your face all by yourself, too.”

Takateru snorted and tried to get his fingers to cooperate. All he accomplished was his shirt getting crumpled even more. With an impatient sigh, Miyuki batted his hands out of the way and finished the job. 

"You fell in a dirty barnyard and probably need to have your bandages changed," he tutted. Discarding the shirt neatly in the dirty clothes pile, he returned to drop to his knees in front of Takateru, plucking at the knots in his bootlaces. "Who knows what state your shoulder is in..."

“Hey, you don’t have to--" Takateru’s voice was subdued, partly in repentance for shouting. He laid his hand on the back of Miyuki’s head when the other man ignored him, letting his fingers sink into the soft strands.

Once the first boot was undone, Miyuki finally looked up at him solemnly, holding his gaze as Takateru's hand slid down to cup his pale cheek. 

“I want to, so just let me, all right?”

Nodding, Takateru let his hand stay where it was.

Clearing her throat in the doorway, his mother was looking as embarrassed as he was. “I’ll just—go get another blanket for you, hm?”

With that, she hurriedly retreated to the hallway, pulling the door mostly closed. Takateru groaned and made to get up, but Miyuki’s hands on his thighs anchored him in place.

“Shit, I need to--"

“Need to what?” Miyuki challenged quietly.

“I dunno, tell her it’s not what she thinks--“

“And what is she thinking?” Miyuki’s voice was amused, but there was a warning beneath it.

“That you and me—That we’re—Y’know—“ Takateru spluttered, for once having no words to yell.

“That we’re…?”

“That we’re, y’know, together, like every one else on the planet seems to think…”

“And I wonder why that is?” Miyuki was definitely entertained again, eyes bright with laughter. 

Takateru scowled since it was at his expense. “Maybe because you hang all over me?”

Miyuki arched an carefully penciled eyebrow. “And yet you don’t seem to mind so much.”

“I didn’t say that! When did I ever say that, huh? I’m not like—Aw man—I’m—And you said you weren’t—“ Takateru was tongue-tied and just making it worse as he waved his hands ineffectively.

“If I recall, I said I wasn’t all ‘Eeeugh,’ as you so eloquently put it, not that I wasn’t interested.” Miyuki leaned closer. Takateru’s spasmodic twitching stilled. “I think that you just don’t want to make time for love between your farming and your fights. But it’s all right. I understand that you’re afraid. I'm very intimidating, after all.”

“I am not! I just— Dammit, Miyuki!” He crossed his arms over his bare chest and frowned. Then squirmed when he realized he was half dressed with Miyuki kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with loving eyes and tempting lips.

“All you have to do is ask, darling.”

As if to prove his point, Miyuki let the tip of his little pink tongue flick out and wet his lips. Takateru tried to look away, he really did, but he was tired and the tension between them had been building since they met and that glistening skin just begged to be touched, so he decided to do something about it.

“Aw hell,” he muttered and cupped Miyuki’s cheeks, bending forward to plunder the willing mouth beneath his. 

Miyuki’s fingernails dug into the thick fabric of his jeans, kneading the muscles of his legs. Even exhausted as he was, Takateru couldn’t help his body’s reaction, and willed the heat in his crotch to go away.

After a long moment, Takateru pulled back, panting himself, and studied the glazed expression he had created on the cheeky pianist. Satisfied with what he saw, he smiled.

“I’m not afraid of love, y’know. I’m just afraid of _you_.”

Miyuki’s eyes refocused at that, narrowing when he realized he was being teased.

“As you should be,” he said as he flexed his claws again in warning. 

Takateru yelped and laughed, and when that died away, he leaned his forehead gently on the other man’s shoulder, slumping forward with a sigh.

“Thanks,” he whispered against Miyuki’s neck, inhaling the other man’s perfume now that he was allowed. 

He really was too tired to take advantage of the situation, and sadly, he wasn’t sure he was ready to go quite _that_ far yet, anyways. He might have talked a big game, but he had never actually been intimate with anyone before.

“You need sleep,” Miyuki murmured as he unbuttoned Takateru’s jeans and helped the taller man shimmy out of them.

“M’yeah,” was the mumbled response, Takateru’s eyes already falling shut as Miyuki guided him under the blankets.

Dropping a kiss to his forehead, Miyuki whispered, “I’ll go see if your mother remembered that blanket.”

“’Kay.” Takateru let his fingers trail through the end of Miyuki’s long hair, then settled back on the pillows. His breathing evened out almost immediately.

“Love you,” Miyuki sighed as he pulled the sheets up and stepped away.

Takateru roused just enough to register Miyuki leaning over him, a heavy quilt being spread across the bed, and his mother whispering that dinner would be ready in an hour from the foot of the bed. Before Miyuki could straighten, Takateru caught his wrist and gave a sleepy grumble.

"Stay."

A soft hand caressed his cheek, even as Miyuki settled on the bed next to him.

"Foolish man. I'm not going anywhere."


	2. Chapter 2

Takateru awoke with a heavy weight across his chest. It turned out to be Miyuki, the Human Blanket, and Takateru tried really hard not to freak about the fact that they were in bed together. In his family's house. With his parents downstairs.

The pianist was breathing steadily next to his cheek, sharing the same pillow. A faint musk of sweat and sleep clung to the bed sheets, filling Takateru’s nostrils. He wondered what had happened to Miyuki’s perfume. He realized there was a new blanket on the bed and smiled softly at the other man, safe to do so with no one watching.

The thought of no one watching reminded him that he was in his parents’ house, and as it was still light outside, no doubt one of his parents would check in on him. He told himself he wasn’t freaking out; he just really needed to pee and was therefore getting the hell out of the bed. Now. Holding his breath, he slowly pulled his arm from under Miyuki’s neck, where he had apparently curled around the pianist in his sleep. He tried not to think of himself doing something that soft. Miyuki shifted, mumbling something about lousy tippers, but settled back into the bed without fully waking.

Takateru pulled the blankets over him, momentarily giving in to the impulse to brush the other man’s long hair from his face. His skin was soft and surprisingly smooth. Takateru spared a thought for his own stubble, but just shrugged and searched for a clean pair of jeans, taking care not to make any noise. He gingerly pulled a t-shirt over his head and slipped out the door, leaving Miyuki sprawled across the bed.

He padded barefoot down the stairs, heading for the cooking noises in the kitchen. The house was filled with the smell of rising bread and the wood stove. The clock on the living room mantel said it was later than he had guessed and he almost felt guilty for sleeping the entire day through. Entering the kitchen, he surprised his mother, who was busy with supper.

“I didn’t expect you up so soon!” She smiled teasingly, making him blush. Gruffly, he just shrugged and pulled out a chair at the table.

“It’s been a rough coupla weeks. Sorry.”

Lovingly patting his head as she passed him, she said, “Don’t worry, dear. You’ve been working so hard since you got back, we know you deserve some time to recover.”

Takateru snorted, and looked out the window. He hadn’t really told them what happened in the city. He knew Kiyomi must have said something to them about it, because his dad had been treating him with more respect since they returned. His mother just gave him a sad smile when she thought he wasn’t looking, and he knew he’d have to tell them about leaving soon enough. There were the other stars of destiny waiting, and Heaven knew he couldn’t keep Miyuki here and happy forever.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” his mother said while fiddling with the gas on the stove. “Why don’t you wash up and find out where your sister disappeared to outside?”

“All right.” He stood up, then winced and looked sheepishly at her. “I kinda didn’t finish bringing the water in this morning….”

She grinned at his distress. “I know, sweetheart. Miyuki came back down and filled the basin after you fell asleep. Poor dear nearly worked himself to death.”

“Oh,” was all Takateru managed, blushing crimson because she had that knowing tone to her voice.

“He’s been very helpful to your father and me,” his mother continued, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. “I have to admit, I didn’t know quite what to make of him when he showed up, but it’s been nice having him around to keep you in line.”

Any second now, his nose was going to start bleeding. He knew she was just teasing, but the thing was, up until that morning he would have been able to deny there was anything going on between him and Miyuki. Now, though… He wasn’t really able to articulate what he was feeling.

Surprisingly, his mother walked over to him, wiping her hands on her apron and taking his face between them. Her fingers smelled like freshly cut mint. She studied his eyes for a long moment, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

“It’s all right, dear. We knew you weren't going to stay at home forever, and we love you no matter what." She patted his cheek gently. "You just keep him happy.”

He knew his mouth was gaping, but he couldn’t respond. His cheeks were on fire.

“Why don’t you go wash up, hm?" She turned back to the stove, dismissing him. "Let Miyuki and Kiyomi know dinner’s ready.”

He stood amazed for a minute or two, then went out the back door to the water basin. Washing up from a side bucket, he was on auto-pilot.

His mom thought he was… like _that_ , and he actually was like _that_ , and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He just knew that Miyuki was… Miyuki. And he was rapidly getting to the point where he couldn’t imagine going any where without the other man. Ever since Miyuki had twirled around wearing his hat, looking up through long lashes at him from under the short brim, and he hadn’t been able to do anything but stare and speak in monosyllables.

Hell, to be honest, he was already at the point where he couldn’t leave him. And that just blew his mind.

He found his sister laying down new hay in the horse barn, and was struck by the normality of it for a second. His life had been flipped upside down in the span of a couple weeks. Looking for Kiyomi, then finding her and having to rescue her. Meeting Miyuki in the meantime. The 108 stars and the legend. Maybe it was fate, like the old man said.

“Hey brat!” He called from the doors. “Time for dinner.”

“Hold on a sec!” She yelled back, lifting a pile of hay that probably weighed more than she did. She tossed it next to the wheelbarrow and cut the twine surrounding the bundle. Her arm muscles bulged as she worked, and Takateru had to admit that she was actually kind of scary. The yakuza that kidnapped her had to have been insane. Well, that one guy definitely had been…

His shoulder twinged, remembering the fight, and he resolutely turned to go back to the house. He’d forgotten to put on shoes, anyway.

“Wait up,” Kiyomi said as she fell into step next to him, peeling off her work gloves. “Lazy bum. Did you enjoy your nap?”

He glanced sideways at her, frowning. She was smirking at him and he wondered what his mother had said to her while he was asleep. Or worse, if Miyuki had said anything.

“You should be a little bit more sympathetic,” he lectured airily. “I was wounded saving you, after all.”

“I never asked you to come get me,” she responded just as lightly. She smiled and punched him in the arm. “But you should be thanking me, anyway.”

Coming to a dead halt, he turned to her in disbelief. “And how do you figure that one?”

Kiyomi put her hands on her hips and smirked. “One, it got you off of this farm, didn’t it? You can’t deny you’ve been going stir crazy since you became the regional champion. Two, you’ve got street cred in the city now, which you wouldn’t have gotten if you just wandered there one day. Three, it had to have happened sooner or later, with this whole destiny thing.”

She paused dramatically and he knew what was coming. “And Four, let us not forget your new beloved, which I totally didn’t see coming. Miyuki’s always been cool, so you're welcome. It is kind of depressing that my brother’s boyfriend looks better in a dress than me, though.”

“The cow looks better in a dress than you,” he muttered darkly, face crimson. She scowled and punched him again. “Oww. Knock it off.”

“Face it. You owe me.”

“I do not. Brat.”

She swung at him again and he dodged it, reaching out to slap the back of her head with his good arm. They were settling into a serious fight when their mother appeared in the back doorway. They quickly tried to look innocent, and she frowned down at them.

“Kiyomi, can you set the table for me after you’ve washed up?”

“Why do I have to?” The teenager whined, glowering over at Takateru. “I’m not the one who slept all day.”

“Kiyomi.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a sigh. As she scurried off to the water basin, Takateru tried not to fidget when his mother’s stern gaze turned on him.

“Have you gotten Miyuki up?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll do that now.”

“Good.”

He wiped the dust from his feet with a spare rag before walking through the kitchen, conscious of his mother watching him. She had some sort of spooky radar for whenever he and Kiyomi were getting into trouble. He was still half-convinced all mothers had psychic powers.

Miyuki hadn’t come down yet, so he went back upstairs, and the climb reminded him of every wound he’d received. When he reached his room, he closed the door completely behind him so he wouldn’t have to listen to Kiyomi complain as she set the table. Miyuki just gave a little snore and burrowed deeper into the blankets.

Takateru sat carefully on the edge of the bed, favoring his shoulder. He really had overdone it. He let himself slump over his knees with a sigh. At the movement, Miyuki rolled until he was curled around Takateru’s back and legs.

The street fighter was startled for a second, the other man’s touch still unexpected. But after a moment’s hesitation, he let his hand reach out, fingers gently carding along Miyuki’s temple. The enormity of their earlier conversation, the kiss, and his mother’s revelation was just beginning to sink in.

Miyuki turned into the motion of his hand, even in his sleep, and that show of trust made Takateru’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries.

He could have this for the rest of his life, if he wanted. He could have the disconcerting and comfortable presence of this fiery man at his side, able to reach out and connect if he would just put the effort forth. He didn’t think Miyuki would offer any objections. They would fight together, back to back, and fulfill this damn destiny, and tear into each other, too. It would be… breathtaking.

Letting his fingers trail around to the back of Miyuki’s skull, he cradled the other man’s head between his hands and waited for him to wake up. At the first change in breathing, the first flutter of long lashes, Takateru leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly to Miyuki’s slack mouth.

The pianist came fully awake with a gasp that Takateru caught easily, swallowing it down as he invaded the warmth between Miyuki’s lips. Another moment of Miyuki lying limp against the bed, then the other man was arching up into him. A groan was torn from Takateru’s throat and he shifted awkwardly until he could stretch out beside him, covering the smaller man’s body with his own. When the need for oxygen became too great, they broke apart panting.

“Hello to you, too,” Miyuki murmured at him with a sly smile, head dropping back to the mattress. There were questions in his eyes, but Takateru merely grinned down at him.

“Hi.” He transferred his weight to his other arm, favoring his sore shoulder. “Ma says dinner’s ready.”

“Really.”

Takateru traced the red flush of arousal across Miyuki’s normally porcelain cheeks. So soft, and he wanted to explore every inch of this beautiful man.

“Really. They’re waiting on us.”

“Then we’d better get up.”

“Yeah.”

Miyuki smiled at him and tugged on his t-shirt. “That would involve you getting off me.”

“Yeah, it would.”

They lay staring at each other, sharing each other’s breath, until Kiyomi started stomping up the stairs. With a sigh, Takateru pulled away and sat up stiffly. He paused to stretch his bad shoulder, and warm hands landed on his back, gently working the sore muscles. He let his chin drop to his chest with a groan, smiling when Miyuki chuckled softly.

“I can hear you, perverts!” Kiyomi called out as she passed by the door.

“You’re the one listening in, brat!” Takateru shouted back.

Her response was interrupted by their mother yelling up the stairs, telling her to come back down. Miyuki just laughed out loud, kneeling behind him on the bed. Takateru leaned back against his legs and let himself relax.

“This isn’t looking good,” the pianist murmured after a steady minute of massage. His fingertips lightly poked around the part of the wound visible from the neck of Takateru’s t-shirt.

The street fighter shrugged his good shoulder. “I’ve had worse. It’ll be fine.”

“Just take it easy, hm? I’m not going to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”

The thought made him snort, but he wisely refrained from pointing out that Miyuki would sooner cut his own hands off than be subservient to another human being.

“Will you two knock it off and come down so we can eat?” Kiyomi shouted up the stairs.

Takateru growled.

“We should go down,” Miyuki said ruefully after a moment. “She’ll just come back up and yell some more if we don’t. The regulars at the bar lived in fear of her.”

“Well, I don’t.” His stomach growled. “Aw hell.”

Miyuki snickered and pushed him until he got to his feet. 

Takateru noted with surprise that the other man was in a pair of his sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts. The worn, soft material draped across Miyuki's shoulders and highlighted the graceful lines of his arms and wrists, his long neck. The sweatpants accentuated the swell of his pert ass and delicate bones of his ankles as he climbed off the bed. Takateru's stomach did a funny drop and he blamed it on the hunger.

“What?” Miyuki demanded, flipping his hair over his shoulder when Takateru continued to stare. “I know I look frightful.”

“You look—fine.” His voice cracked and he told himself to move, do anything. His body didn’t listen, cheeks flushing.

The pianist held a hand to his cheek and picked at the hem of the shirt. “I should probably change, and I need to wash my face. I’m certainly not presentable in this boorish ensemble--"

Paralysis broken, Takateru swooped in to cut the pianist off with a kiss and grinned against his lips when Miyuki made an annoyed hiss. Holding the other man tightly in his arms, arms wrapped around Miyuki's slender waist, he plundered the other man's plush lips and waited until Miyuki turned pliant before he relaxed his hold.

“You’re perfect,” he said when they came up for air. “Now c’mon. I’m starving.”

Miyuki just blinked up at him, absently caressing Takateru's chest. But the pianist let himself be dragged out of the room instead of kicking Takateru's ass, so he was considering it a win. It seemed like Takateru had a new tactic in his playbook, and he couldn’t wait to argue some more.


	3. Chapter 3

Miyuki plinked half-heartedly at the piano keys, forearm resting on the piano top so he could lean his head forward and shield himself from the rest of the bar with his hair. There were only the regulars present, what with the weather being so horrid out, but Christmas wasn’t much to be celebrated in the city anyway, and he didn’t really care for it.

He didn’t care that he would be going back to his tiny, cozy and utterly empty apartment all by himself tonight. It was what he'd been doing every night. Just because the rest of the world considered it a holiday didn’t mean he had to. He was his own person.

Raising his head, he frowned at his empty glass. He wasn’t drunk by any means, nor did he intend to become inebriated before he walked home (after was a different story), but on slow nights his glass was usually kept full. He glared at Shaku as she smirked at him over the bar top, and debated whether the drink was worth the effort of talking to her.

At least no one had requested any Christmas carols yet. The first one that did was going to lose an eye.

Instead, he returned to fooling around with the keyboard. He just played whatever snippets came to mind, pointedly ignoring the fact that he kept returning to the same piece. It held no significance for him. There was no reason to continually play it. He just...

“Here.” Shaku replaced his empty glass with one containing a scant fingerful. He arched an elegant eyebrow at the miserly portion, but she smirked again. “You’ll want to keep your head in this weather. Not safe for a lady like you to walk home unescorted as it is.”

“Bite me,” he muttered and sipped the brandy daintily.

Instead of rising to the bait, Shaku propped an elbow on the grand piano.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

The question was unexpected and his eyes focused on her sharply. Tossing his hair over his shoulder, he shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about, my dear. Perhaps someone’s been dipping a bit into the rum tonight...?”

She rolled her eyes at his attempt to deflect her. “You only play that song when you’re thinking of him. I swear, you’re worse than a teenage girl.”

“Jealous that at least one of us can still pass for one, are we?” Miyuki responded tartly, pushing away from the bench so he could close the piano.

Quickly stepping out of the way, Shaku smirked at him again. “Sometimes you’re easier to see through than air, boy.” Before Miyuki could retaliate, she continued. “Why don’t you head on home before the weather gets any worse. I doubt we’ll have any one else come in here.”

She emphasized the words oddly, but Miyuki just sighed and shrugged. “Fine. Not like anyone here tonight tips that well.”

He pulled his long coat on, purchased to match the exact shade of his grey hat, and wound a black scarf tightly around his face. A quick wave goodbye to the regulars, and he was out in the bitter cold. His apartment was several blocks from the bar, and he cursed the distance every step he took through the slush and snow.

Winter made the city seem purer and dirtier all at once. The ramshackle buildings were hidden under a glossy coat of ice and snow, yet the streets were covered in black and brown swamps churned up by vehicles passing through.

Miyuki kicked at an especially large chunk of ice and hurried his pace. No one in their right mind was staying outside in the below-freezing weather, but that just meant there were fewer people on the streets to hear a person scream. Of course, the Stars of Destiny were patrolling in larger numbers now, so most of the thugs were keeping to the indoors this season.

He didn’t realize he was being followed until he went under a broken overpass. The remains hung overhead far enough to echo the footsteps behind him. He didn’t risk a look back until he was going around the next corner to his street, but what he did see made him freeze and slowly turn on his heel.

His flaming orange hair was being whipped around by the wind, and he had his chin tucked down into a homemade scarf, but Miyuki would have recognized Takateru anywhere. The street fighter was busy protecting his face and eyes from the cold, so he didn’t notice that Miyuki had stopped until he was almost on top of him.

When he did look up, a dopey grin broke out across his face. “You sure know how to drive a guy nuts.”

Miyuki blinked. That was not the greeting he’d had in mind after they’d been apart for nearly six months. “Excuse me?”

“You weren’t supposed to get off tonight until six. I had to rush as it was since the train was late, and then even after I spotted you, you didn’t slow down. All that crappy music making you deaf or something?”

The familiar griping was ruined by the fact that Takateru was staring at him with that dumb smile. Miyuki couldn’t say anything though, because he was doing the same thing. He blamed the fact that he let the music comment slide on being in shock.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for another month,” he finally said stupidly. 

Takateru laughed at the comment.

“Should I head back to the farm then? I’d hate to interrupt your elaborate social agenda,” he joked, switching his duffel bag to his other shoulder. Miyuki punched his arm. “Ow, dammit.”

Even the physical violence couldn’t dispel their grins, and they stood gazing at each other for a moment longer. Finally, Miyuki galvanized himself to action.

“Don’t they have hats out in the country?” He demanded as he hooked his arm in Takateru’s, practically dragging the taller man along the icy sidewalk. “Silly man, you’ll catch your death out here.”

“I had one, but I found someone it looked better on,” Takateru mumbled, cheeks red from more than just the cold. “As you well know, hag.”

“Careful what you call me,” Miyuki said lightly, “I might make you sleep in the stairwell.”

Takateru scoffed. “No you wouldn’t. You’ve complained about cold feet enough, I doubt you’d let a perfectly good foot warmer languish outside your door.”

There really wasn’t anything he could say to that. Miyuki’s tendency to warm the chunks of ice he called his feet on Takateru was an old subject of contention between them, and he was taking too much comfort in the familiarity of their banter. It felt like a piece of him that had been missing had just clicked back into place.

“So how is everyone?” He asked calmly, content to tuck his fingers around Takateru’s arm for heat. “I take it the farm’s still in one piece?”

“Well, Dad refused to keep off his feet about a month ago.” The red head pulled him closer as they avoided a frozen pond in the middle of the sidewalk. “Mom decided my services weren’t required any more last week. I think she was getting a little sick of me, to tell the truth.”

“Really.” He tried not to smirk as they navigated the icy steps of the apartment building. He honestly did. 

He could just imagine how frustrated Takateru had gotten, being cooped up on the farm while his loyal followers were busy continuing his quest to make the city livable again.

They reached the apartment door and Miyuki quickly opened it, holding it wide enough for Takateru to come through. The place was pretty damn toasty since Ryou had moved into the apartment below them and started doing the building maintenance on the side. Takateru tossed his duffel bag onto the couch and shrugged out of his jacket, stretching.

“Ah, it’s good to be back,” he yawned, reaching for Miyuki, who let himself be led easily.

The pianist wound his arms around his lover’s shoulders, smiling softly up at him. “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr


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